


Inimici

by shakespearespaz



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Revolution (TV)
Genre: 61st Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Character Death, District 5, Gen, I mean it's the Hunger Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie and Danny Matheson are selected as District 5's tributes for the 61st Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Charlotte Matheson.”

She hadn’t even been looking. Her eyes had been locked on Danny, standing stiffly across the aisle and in the same row as her. She hadn’t even been wishing feverously under her breath for it to not be her, like all her neighbors had.

Charlie jerked her head to the stage. The snowcapped mountains towered beyond the square, and the petite figure wrapped in more folds of blue silk than Charlie could count clutched a small yellowish paper with her name.

It couldn’t be real.

The hands grasping her arms were real though, as the other children dressed in their best attire parted to form a staring semicircle around her. Charlie shook the Peacekeepers off and walked one her own one step at a time across the red bricks to the stairs. She couldn’t explain both the dread that settled in her and the relief that snaked its way in.

The chances of both her and Danny being picked had to be impossible.

She wheeled around once onstage to face the crowd, barely registering the three silent and still mentors behind her. There would be time to meet them later. Instead she searched the adults in the crowd, until she found the mop of brown hair that belonged to her father. His brow was creased into his trademark face of thought and grave concern. She and Danny called it the ‘Dad brood’ when he wasn’t in earshot. At his side stood Maggie, looking more pale than usual.

Nora, the official Capitol escort reached her hand in the bowl on the boy’s side. She hesitated as she read the name to herself, the pause unlike her usual behavior at the Reaping, which was composed, precise and fluid.

“I—uh—Daniel Matheson,” she called, her shaky voice clipping off the end of the last name.

So much for near impossible. The moment caught up to Charlie and she could feel her legs grow wobbly as Danny marched solemnly to join her. No, she thought. There had to be a rule against this. A family shouldn’t have to lose both their children in one year. Danny was sick too; there should be a rule against that. Him searching desperately for an inhaler in the arena wouldn’t be interesting to anyone, would it?

As Danny stood in shock on the other side of the escort, Charlie decided that she wouldn’t go near the facts of the situation, the reality that washed over her like a wave of ice water, the unthinkable.

Only one of them could ever return home alive.

\--

“The Capitol’s not far from District 5. Maybe two hours. But you probably know that.” Nora waved her hand stiffly in front of the sensor to open the door to the next car. “You can take that time to properly meet your mentors. They’re all past—”

“Past victors. We’re not stupid.”

Danny caught her hand in his gently. “There’s no need to be rude, Charlie.”

They followed the escort’s swinging ponytail into the lush dining car, but Nora stopped at the end of the table. She turned back to face them, dainty gripping the back of a mahogany chair tightly.

“You will soon figure out, Charlotte, that everyone in this train car is your ally. We’re perhaps your only allies.”

She nodded down the table to the three figures at the other end. A dark haired man was slumped forward, head buried in one arm and the other slung out across the table with an expensive tumbler knocked over. Miles. Victor of the 34th Annual Hunger Games. Nicknamed the ‘Butcher’ by Capitol sponsors, he’d won his Games when he was 16.

Everyone in District 5 knew about the surviving victors. After all, the tributes for the past 22 years had only returned home in caskets, so there was no one new to talk about.

The man to the left of Miles had claimed the head of table, chair tilted back and his icy blue eyes studying Charlie and her brother. He was Sebastian Monroe. 39th Hunger Games, Charlie recalled. People didn’t talk about him much, but apparently he’d been quite lethal. And probably still is, she noted.

The last person was a woman with blonde, curly hair escaping from a poor attempt at a bun. She wasn’t looking at them, instead she sat tall with her hands folded neatly in her lap and her eyes remained fixed on the greens and browns flying by outside the train window. Rachel Porter, victor of the 36th Hunger Games. She was brilliant, but had entered her Games with little to no combat skills, and Charlie was perhaps the most interested to hear how she had survived. There were no Hunger Games reruns outside of the Capitol and a montage every Reaping. Their stories and survival were as enigmatical to her as their familiar but stoic faces up onstage each year.

Nora spoke first.

“Take a seat, Charlotte and Daniel, and we’ll get started with introductions.”

Bass brought his chair back down on all four legs with a thud and leaned forward, offering a sharp elbow to Miles, who jolted upward. His hand ghosted over Rachel’s shoulder for a moment before touching her lightly. Her gaze snapped to him and then slowly but jerkily drifted over the two children sitting wide eyed at the other end of the table.

\--

Charlie excused herself after forty minutes of painful conversation to the back car of the train, sinking into a velvet seat cushion and staring out the window.

The Capitol would probably be similar terrain, she knew. But although she had heard that it was mountainous, they wouldn’t be _her_ mountains.

She would miss the trees, the river that ran through the steep valley that she called home. The river generated hydroelectric power for the Capitol and surrounding districts and she had not given any thought to what job she wanted there when she was older. It didn’t matter anymore, she figured.

Charlie retrieved from her pocket the object her father had pressed into her hand as she said goodbye. She’d promised him everything she was supposed to; she’d do her duty and protect Danny, like always. Nothing would change. But he had only hushed her and given the package, telling her that she reminded him of her mother. That she was strong and brave and beautiful.

She had hated the whole exchange. Her mother was dead and now Dad only had Maggie, her stepmother. They had fought the night before and still Maggie had pressed her close during goodbyes, promising that she and Dad would look after each other. Too many goodbyes at once and Charlie had sobbed into her father’s shoulder for the last time.

She unrolled the handkerchief and out of the soft white fabric dropped a hairpin. At least that’s what she thought it was, as Charlie had never given much thought to what her long, dirty blonde curls did. It was plain, probably made of silver with a complex knot around a dark purple gemstone at the top. Her mother’s. Charlie didn’t know what she would do with it. Who knew what would happen to her belongings after she died in the arena; they’d probably get auctioned off or thrown in the garbage.

She supposed she could give it to one of the mentors to keep safe, but she had not liked any of the three. They were either blunt and crass, like Bass, or simply uninterested and apathetic, like Rachel and Miles.

She’d get what information she could out of them to save either her or Danny and then let them go back to their lazy, broken lives.

\--

Charlie felt more vulnerable than she ever had, laying exposed on a cold, metal table as she was poked and pricked. Stylish is painful, she decided. Finally the attendants finished and allowed her to put her robe back on and wait for her head stylist.

The Capitol was stunning, like everyone said. The city literally shone and glittered in the sun and compared to her town of clapboard houses and concrete, she wondered if the short train ride had not taken her to one of the stars sparkling in the wide night sky instead. She couldn’t help but think that all the power District 5 generated went to Capitol alone.

Her stylist was quick to arrive, although Charlie was confused at his identity at first. He was a middle-aged man that sidled through the sliding door to the dressing room, distinguishable by his asymmetrical and brightly colored sweater vest and large, rimmed glasses. Charlie thought that he looked more like the engineering students her father worked with than a high profile Capitol fashion guru. 

“Hello. I’m Aaron.” He pushed up his glasses and extended sweaty hand.

Charlie took the hand slowly. “Charlotte Matheson. Charlie. You really my stylist?”

“Yes, yes, I know I don’t look the part. But designing for the Games is more of a puzzle than an art given that—”

“You dress people who are going to die?”

Aaron released her hand suddenly and stepped back to study her.

“Your brother’s a lot less cynical.”

Charlie paused as Aaron crossed the room to the racks of clothing and began pawing through them.

“My brother shouldn’t be here,” Charlie declared.

“Well, you both are.” He unhooked what simply looked like a massive swath of bright blue fabric to Charlie and held it up to her. “During the opening ceremonies contestants usually dress—”

“In themes relating to their district. I know.”

“Yes, well. Power’s a bit more abstract than say, lumber. So let’s go with something—” he reached behind some hat boxes to pull out a neon green petticoat “—electric.”

Charlie couldn’t suppress a half-chuckle.

“See, you laughed at my joke. That’s a good start.”

“Well, it was a pretty poor joke.”

Aaron dropped the hideous petticoat on the floor and offered the mass of blue her.

“Try this?”

\--

Rachel, Miles, Bass and Danny were waiting by the chariot when Charlie was properly coated with pasty eye shadow and suffocating hairspray. Danny was dressed similar to her, in an electric blue tunic. His was simple enough to look alright and it even brought out his bright blue eyes, but Charlie still thought her gown was ridiculous. The fabric was light and silky and probably would flow nicely in the wind, but the jeweled shoulders were chunky and ugly.

Danny approached her first and she collected him in a hug.

She heard Nora begin to protest behind them, something about smearing their makeup, but Charlie also managed to catch a snippet from the three mentors.

“At least we got attractive ones this year,” Bass muttered to Miles, “You know—”

“Don’t say it,” Miles warned.

“She almost looks like Rachel.”

Charlie watched Rachel silently turn from them to stroke the team of white horses.

“What the hell did I just say, idiot.” 

Rachel stayed by the horses as Miles and Bass helped Charlie and Danny up. Aaron approached the chariot and leaned in to remind Charlie.

“Smile and wave. Make them like you. Shouldn’t be too hard, you’re a good looking team.”

Charlie managed to smile.

“Thank you, Aaron.”

She linked arms with Danny as the Chariot jolted forward into the the screaming roar of the crowd and the blinding light of the city.


	2. Chapter 2

When she first opened her eyes Charlie was consumed by nothing but sheer confusion. The dark, cement walls and the finery that adorned them seemed like a past dream and she had expected upon waking that they would disappear and instead the soft white walls and wide windows of home would return.

Instead, Nora waited at the foot of her bed with brisk greeting.

“Morning. Time for strategy, not sleep.”

She flipped the lights on and left, as Charlie crawled out of bed and found some presentable clothes—not her own clothes—in the closet. She was the last up she noted as she joined the rest in the common area.

Bass had claimed an entire couch to himself, bare feet slung over the arm as he downed a cup of coffee. Miles and Rachel were at the table, Rachel hunched over a journal she occasionally scribbled in and Miles slouched in his chair as he squinted at Charlie appearing from the hall.

Danny had already found a place in the middle of these strange creatures and sat stiffly in his nice outfit. Charlie slid in next to him.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

Danny shrugged and opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Nora spoke up.

“Alright, we’ve got a full day ahead of us. Midday we’re headed to the training center to begin official preparations. I think you’ll be very impressed with the facilities offered. Until then, I think we should go over things to know and get to know each other a bit better.”

She gathered a small white device from the table before moving over to Bass. After some objections and a harsh look, he moved his feet so that she could sit.

“Any questions before we begin?” Nora asked.

Miles shook his head and sauntered over to lean against the back of the couch, uncomfortably splitting Charlie and Danny.

“Rachel, would you care to join us?” Nora inquired. No response from the figure at the table. “Rachel?”

“ _Rachel.”_

She flicked her head up at Miles’ voice.

“We’re going through the tributes.” She nodded and scooted the dining room chair over a few feet, still on the outskirts of the group. Nora seemed to accept that was the best she would get and pointed the device at the wall. A projected image appeared, a slide show at the ready. 

"First, people to know.” On the wall was the picture of man dressed sharply in a wine colored suit, smiling in a way that Charlie imagined often made people want to trust him. For her, it had the opposite affect.

“T. Neville, organizer of this year’s games. Capable and effective. Either your best friend or worst enemy. Don’t worry, you won’t have much interaction with him, but it should go without saying that you treat him with the utmost respect.”

Miles snorted. “And if you get the chance, feel free to respect him with a sword up his—”

“Basically, he’s manipulative monster,” Bass clarified.

“So naturally he and Bass are great friends,” Rachel announced, still not looking up from her writing.

Charlie expected an awkward silence after her comment, but Bass just sighed dramatically. “Thank you _so_ much for your contributions, Rachel.”

“The point is he’s dangerous,” Miles went on, although the nonverbal spat between the two continued across the room, “And he controls your life while in the arena. So take that advice as you will.”

Rachel turned her head to address Charlie, and Charlie was shocked by the sudden directness of her blue eyes.

“Don’t trust him. He’ll try to tell you things about the games but don’t listen. He likes messing with tributes.

Charlie nodded and couldn’t help but look back over to Bass, to see how he had responded to Rachel’s comment. The three mentors were fast becoming even more puzzling to her; nothing they did or said to one another made sense, as if they operated on a plane of interaction from which she and Danny and even Nora were excluded.

Bass had turned grave, gulping the rest of his coffee and simply nodding along with the rest. She caught a brief moment between him and Rachel, that Charlie was sure was reconciliatory, but she couldn’t tell who had forgiven who.

There was more to that story, Charlie was sure.

\--

Nora was right about the training center. It was impressive, with every weapon she could imagine hanging against a far wall and an entire section dedicated to simulating survival situations. If it was her alone in the center for a few weeks, Charlie figured she could probably get to a point where she felt confident entering the arena.

The problem, she immediately determined, was that she was _not_ alone.

When Nora had flipped through the slide show that morning, the faces of her opponents were only single snapshots, and Charlie found herself able to imagine killing these people. Now they stood before her, very much alive and active and the reality hit her. Except for the Careers, who were already out on the mats and at the equipment, most stood around wide-eyed, and, like her and Danny, only wanted to go home. How could she kill these people in cold blood? Maybe one of the boys throwing knives would do it for her, she prayed. But then how would she kill them?

Charlie gestured for Danny to follow and headed to the wall of weapons.

She had some skill with a crossbow and she recognized a collection of sabers, all with slightly varying styles. Miles and Bass had offered to give her some sword fighting tips, saying that in most years long blades of some sort make it into the Cornucopia. She turned to Danny.

“I can get by, but we need to train you on a weapon.”

“I’m not helpless, Charlie. I can use a crossbow.”

“Even if they put one in the Cornucopia, who says we’ll be the ones who get? It’s easy to use and lethal.”

“Well then choose a sword or axe or something. Miles and Bass can help with it.”

She reached up for one of the sabers, but Danny caught her elbow and brought her back down.

“Charlie, you know I can’t swing one of those easily. I’ll work on the knives and daggers, but Charlie? I can’t do this, not like you can—”

“What exactly is that supposed—”

“Need any help?”

Charlie and Danny turned their heads in unison to the interrupting newcomer. He was well-muscled and dark haired, wearing a tight blue shirt and offering a slight smile to the two.

“You’re the siblings, right? That’s really unlucky.”

“You’re a Career, aren’t you?” Charlie asked coldly.

He shook his head.

“Jason. District 4. Usually Careers, but we haven’t had a new victor in a while. There’s been a lack of volunteers.”

He extended his hand. Charlie considered taking it for a moment, instinct telling her that friends would not be a bad thing. But they hadn’t discussed alliances yet with the mentors and the first day was pretty early.

Still, she doubted if Rachel, Miles or Bass would even cover the topic. She couldn’t see any of them making friends that easily. She closed her hand around Jason’s and shook, just in case.

“I’m Charlie and this is Danny.”

“You still look like you know what you’re doing,” Danny pointed out.

“We fish and hunt for a living in my district. I can help with nets, bows and arrows—”

“Do you know anything dagger related? Danny could use some help.” She ignored the small objection Danny began to make. She had promised her father she’d keep him alive and if accepting help did that, she could swallow her pride.

“Some.” Jason reached up to bring down a blade, one that was unadorned and efficient.

Charlie reached for it, but Jason held it back.

“This is an exchange, you know. What do you have?”

“I have good aim with a crossbow.”

“That’s not very useful to me.”

Charlie realized that she really had little else. She could start a fire, but Jason looked like he could too. Maggie had tried to teach her to distinguish between safe and poisonous plants and ones for medicine and ones for food, but she had been more interested in what was around the next bend in the river than the bushes beside it. She could climb—rocks, trees, buildings—and explore. Back home, she was able to make it to the second tallest peak in her valley and back before her father had realized where she had gone. But she couldn’t exactly teach that to someone else.

Jason watched her scramble frantically for a response, and he was about to tell her to stop before she hurt herself when Danny spoke up.

“I know some plants and remedies. Ones for specific health problems. Like Maggie taught us, remember Charlie?”

She forced a nod. At least he remembered. Jason smiled again.

“Okay, that’s a decent trade for today. Not the best, but I like you.” He flipped the dagger around and offered the hilt to Danny. “Bring something better tomorrow and we can keep working together.”

He moved with Danny onto the mat, dragging out one of the fake, foam figures to practice on. Charlie looked around the space as she followed them, noticing for the first time a small, elevated glass box along the wall. From the curious faces inside she decided that it was an observation room of some kind.

What caught her attention was the man standing to the corner, watching her, Danny and Jason quite intently. She recognized his face from the presentation that morning.

Neville had taken an interest in them.

\--

Charlie drew the steak knife across the plate, digging the blade ferociously against the crystal although it did nothing.

“District 3 will make good allies.” She registered that Rachel was talking, but kept her eyes fixed on Danny across the table, who was listening politely, intently. “They always send smart Tributes and this year doesn’t seem to be an exception.”

“And they shouldn’t be too difficult to overpower when the time comes to betray them.” Bass chimed in. “Unless, of course, they turn on you first. I’d say go for Tributes with brute force, like 9 or 10. They’re less unpredictable.”

Charlie heard the sharp click of silverware hitting the table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Miles tilt his head in warning at Rachel. She removed her napkin swiftly from her lap and laid it beside her silverware.

“I’m not that hungry,” she announced.

“Rachel—”

“If we’re going the ‘brute force’ way clearly I’m not needed.”

“Says the woman who shanked—”

“Shut up, Bass.” Her hand reached for the ornate wine glass and Charlie thought for a moment that she was going to throw it at him. “It doesn’t matter. They are going to die whether it’s my plan or yours. So screw—”

“Rachel!” 

Miles had hauled himself to his feet and it was hard to miss the unreadable glare that he sent her way. Rachel lunged forward and swiped the wine bottle, grasping it in one hand and the glass in the other. She kicked her chair back from the table and fled towards the hall.

Miles and Bass shared their own look, to which Bass gave a clear ‘it’s not my fault’ shrug that Miles was not pleased about. Charlie watched Miles follow her, and then Bass gave in, only a few paces behind him.

From the table Charlie heard the door to Rachel’s room slide shut with a passive aggressive hiss and heard it lock shut.

There was a still moment between the three left at the table, silent except for muffled voices down the hall.

Danny asked, “Why are they so—”

‘Dysfunctional?” Nora supplied. “Because no one comes out of the Games without losing something.”

“Miles seems to be gaining a beer belly.”

Nora surprised them by meeting Charlie’s joke with a sharp laugh.

“They each cope in their own way. Miles likes his alcohol, Bass the ladies and Rachel leaves us sometimes.”

“Leaves?”

“Retreats into her head. They know how to get each other out of their funks though. Give them a little while and they’ll be back and ready to try and help you.”

“Why do they tolerate each other?”

“Because they’re mandated by law to be here.” Nora took a quiet chuckle. “Victors are strange creatures. It’s said that the only person who truly understands one is another victor. Perhaps one of you will have that pleasure.”

Charlie was too busy looking back down the hall towards their rooms to notice the long drink Nora took out of her glass.

“We did find a possible ally today. From District 4,” Danny mentioned.

“That’s wonderful,” Nora replied, but Charlie recognized the disinterest. Even Nora though they would die. “Want me to grab another bottle of wine?” she offered.

Charlie shook her head and Danny averted his gaze to the peas on his plate.

**Author's Note:**

> I have seen both movies and did some research but am still currently working my way through the books, so if anything by way of the world of Panem and the Games doesn't match the books, feel free to let me know. This AU is happening before the timeline of the series and with tributes from a completely different district, so hopefully that will help mitigate the errors because really I'm just going out on an artistic limb here.


End file.
